Fawn
by Raveness
Summary: Previously titled "Alone" Aerin is constantly abused by her churl of a husband, Brodda. Meanwhile, Saeros is not dead as we are lead to believe.
1. Chapter 1

Alone  
  
This is my first fanfic, so if it sucks, well, you know why. I have a fascination with sharp objects and fire, so I really enjoy flames; they will be used to make bonfires and warm my hands because my house is incredibly cold. The base of this story is the Narn I Hin Hurin, in Unfinished Tales. The Narn I Hin Hurin gives, in much more detail, the account of the children of Hurin. You don't need to read it to understand my fic, I think.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, never have, and never will.  
  
Summary: Aerin is constantly abused by her churl of a husband, Brodda. In the meantime, Saeros is not dead as we are led to believe, but quite alive instead.  
  
Chapter One  
  
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Slowly, his head cleared as feeling spread through his limbs. The feeling of pain. At least I have feeling, the elf sarcastically reminded himself. Gradually, his vision cleared and with a moan, Saeros lifted his head out of the mud of the river bank where he lay to look around. Where the hell am I, was his first reaction. He had no idea of where he was, though by the look of the clear waters he lay near, he knew that the river must be the Esgalduin.  
  
He stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pain that flared through his entire body. He started to walk towards the beautiful waters of the river. Though they were only a few feet away, Saeros fell to his knees in exhaustion as soon as he reached them. With shaking hands, he splashed water onto his face and body, and through his disheveled hair. As he cleaned his right arm, he felt a sharp stab of pain, and was startled to see blood flowing from a wide gash near his elbow. Saeros stared at the blood as it tinted the crystalline waters scarlet, and suddenly, he remembered.  
  
"Ahhh!" came the tortured cry of Saeros as he fell to his knees before Turin. He knelt, holding his injured right arm to his body, his left hand clamped over the wound to still the flow of blood. His sword lay on the leaves, under his foe's booted foot. Panting heavily, he raised his defiant eyes to meet Turin's gaze. I will not die a coward! I will die bravely, if that is to be my fate, Saeros thought as he waited for the enemy to deliver his death blow.  
  
But Turin did not strike, he merely glowered at the elf. "Saeros," he said, "there is a long race before you, and clothes will be a hindrance; hair must suffice." With that he grabbed the elf's shoulders and forced him to the ground. Very pleased he was to see the defiant look in Saeros's eyes replaced by one of fear. Turin proceeded to rip his clothes from him as he struggled. But Turin let him up, and then "Run!" he cried. "Run! And unless you go as swift as the deer I shall prick you on from behind."  
  
Saeros took off, running blindly through the forest; Turin pursuing him. Then the chasm over the stream was visible. Still running, he gathered himself for the leap. As he landed on the far side, he lost his footing. Saeros tumbled down into the stream, and striking his head on a rock, he drifted into darkness.  
  
He stood slowly, shaking his head to bring his mind back to the present. He was famished, exhausted, injured, and freezing. "How long have I been unconscious?" Saeros said irritably. He glanced up the Esgalduin, the way he'd come, though it'd been against his will. I could follow the Esgalduin back to Doriath, he thought, but do I want to return? Do I want to face the humiliation and exile that is to be my fate among my kin? No! I am already in exile! In exile I shall stay!  
  
Saeros turned and looked across the grass to the forest nearby. The forest that was everywhere, on both sides of the river, sometimes down into the water itself. "How very different it is from Doriath; sweet Doriath with its oaks and maples, elms and birches, and grassy sunlit glades rimmed with the blossoms of dogwoods," he whispered to himself with tears of remembrance in his eyes. The forest in front of him consisted of pine and cedar. The trunks were close together, throwing the pine-needle covered floor into permanent shadow. Having no where else to go, he walked towards it, his arms folded over his broken ribs, his broken left arm cradled against his chest. It began snowing then, and the wind blew in gusts, stinging his bare skin. He tried to walk faster, but that only hurt more, as his left knee and ankle felt as though the ligaments and muscles inside no longer held them together.  
  
Several miles into the forest, Saeros found a thick bunch of cedar trees. He moved in between them, and found a protected niche in the center. "Shelter," he whispered as he sat down. Having never been so exhausted in his life, he curled up and slept.  
  
Over the next several months, he stayed there, nursing himself back to health. He crept up on creatures unaware, and snapped his necks with his bare hands. He skinned them with sharp stones to make leather clothing and boots. Their bones were carved into knives and a bow, the sinews making the bowstring. A leather quiver of cedar-shafted, stone-tipped arrows he made as well. But as his strength grew, so did his anger and hatred of the Edain and Turin, until it drove him north, out of the forest, through the mountains, and into Dor-lomin, seeking revenge.  
  
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Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, the first few chapters will be about the same length. I won't be updating too much until summer, when I don't need to worry about Geometry tests and English reports. However, if I get no reviews, I won't update at all, I'll just continue writing this for myself. I don't naturally write on the computer anyway, I use pen and paper, the old-fashioned way. So pleaz be patient and R&R( 


	2. Chapter 2

Alone  
  
Well, here's the second chapter. Just to be safe, so that I'm not at fault for anyone's discomfort, this chapter is rated R for violence and rape. If you can't handle it, don't read it. I'm sorry it's so short, but just as the previous chapter introduced Saeros, this one will introduce Aerin. I would also like to thank Belthronding for her support, because otherwise this wouldn't be updated.  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
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The force of his blow to her head sent her lithe, delicate body slamming into the wall, knocking her breath from her lungs. His fist hit her in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. Again he connected with her head, beating her down to her knees. He resumed beating her face, head, back, and midsection. Blood welled from numerous bruises and wounds on her body. Several ribs were broken, and she coughed up blood.  
  
He grabbed her shoulders and drug her up onto the bed, then straddled her midsection, settling his weight upon her broken and battered form. He ripped her clothing off, then removed his own. He pulled her legs apart, then forced his erection into her. She cried out in pain, for among the Edain, she had always been small and fragile; and as an Easterling, he was unnaturally large and strong, and thoroughly enjoyed being able to force himself upon her.  
  
'Shut up, bitch!' he growled as he thrust into her, his calloused hands gripping her hips, forcing her against him as he pressed himself into her. For hours he pleasured himself, slowly torturing her. Eventually, he released his seed inside her when he could go no further, and she passed out from the combination of blood loss and pain. He roughly removed himself from her, pulled on his breeches, and simply walked away, leaving her ravaged body unconscious on the bed.  
  
Since that first night, Aerin's life had been nothing but agony. The same fate awaited her with the closing of each day. And when Brodda's companions were present, they would partake in his favorite activity as well. Needless to say, her wounds, physical and emotional, never healed.  
  
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What'd you think? Whatever you did think, a review would be appreciated. So would the CD by Evanescence, but that can't be helped, can it? 


	3. Chapter 3

Alone  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.  
  
Since the last one was so short, I'll post this chapter. This one is even shorter that the second, and just fills in the plot with stuff you've already read in the Silmarillion. It's only meant to make the plot move along somewhat smoothly. The next chapter is still being written and refined, so it'll be awhile till I get that posted; it's just so long, but it's the first chapter in which any real action happens and the plot begins.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
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In Brodda's house, Aerin was the only one to keep the kind manners of old in use. And so it was that when Turin came, seeking shelter and news of Morwen, Aerin aided him. He asked her and any others in the house what had become of Morwen and Nienor, and they responded that Brodda had plundered her house and that the two had gone away. He and a drunken Brodda exchanged harsh words, and Turin in great anguish and wrath, grabbed Brodda and threw him, so that his neck was snapped. Three others in his madness he slew, before he realized what he'd done, for chaos had erupted in the hall. He sought to persuade Aerin to come with him, but she declined, for she could not survive in the wild. And then Turin fled, for those of Brodda's hall pursued him.  
  
Aerin stood alone in the doorway, watching as Turin's pursuers disappeared into the darkness of the forest. They won't catch him, she thought to herself, he's too elusive and wood crafty. Turning, she closed the door and went into the bathing room, leaving the hall as it was. After taking a much needed and relaxing bath, she dressed and lay down to sleep. Just as she dozed off, she was awoken by the slam of the front door.  
  
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Review if you feel like it, I'm not going to plead with you. But if, as I said before, no reviews appear, this story will cease to exist. 


	4. Chapter 4

Alone  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapter.  
  
Another chapter. I'm sorry it's been so long. I admit it's not as long as I wanted it to be, and it isn't written quite the way I want it, but I hope you enjoy it. I've looked at the three previous chapters as the prologue, so this should really be the first chapter. The others set the scene for what is to happen, which will start in this chapter. I want to thank Belthronding for all of her support, she has been invaluable. I would also like to thank Nerdanel, who reminded me of the burning of Aerin's home, which I had forgotten. Thanks to Tindomiel and Helena for their encouraging reviews too! I'm continually trying to improve my writing, so suggestions are appreciated.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
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"So this is Dor-lomin," Saeros said to himself as he walked under trees like the ones along the Esgalduin where he'd rested and healed. He crept quietly, as only elves can, holding a drawn knife in his right hand and his bow in his left. There was a clearing ahead, with a smooth, narrow dirt path running through it. A little way back from the path, in a sparse patch of pines, was a small cottage and stable. Even so, he was taking no chances.  
  
As he reached the edge of the clearing, Saeros looked down the path in both directions, then sprinted to the door of the cottage. Sheathing his knife, he drew an arrow, fitted it to the bow, and opened the door. A gust of wind caused it to slam shut behind him. So much for my silent entrance, he thought angrily, having wanted to steal into this house unnoticed.  
  
The hall he stood in looked like a battlefield; there were bodies sprawled across the floor, and blood drenched the overturned chairs and tables. Food and shattered dinnerware covered everything.  
  
Seeing nothing of use, and assuming the house's inhabitants dead, he decided to search for provisions, weapons, clothing, and maybe a horse in the stable. He went into the kitchen, the room on the right. After rummaging through the barrels, crates, and cabinets lining the walls, he found five sacks and filled them with bread, potatoes, corn, apples, and other various dried fruits, vegetables, and grains, as well as a few much needed cooking utensils. He found three leather flasks and filled them with water. Shouldering his goods, he went to the stable.  
  
"How convenient! Two fine horses, just waiting for a master!" he exclaimed with pleasure upon entering. He saddled and bridled both horses, packing halters, leads, brushes and other equipment into their saddlebags. After lading his provisions onto the black gelding, he stepped back to inspect them. Both looked remarkably similar, each standing about 15 hands high with good muscling and a sturdy appearance. Fine, enduring steeds, he thought approvingly, these are horses that can handle anything!  
  
The only difference between them was the fact that one was a glossy black gelding and the other a dark dappled buckskin mare with four small white socks. They stood calmly, attentively, waiting for his command. He smiled and patted each on the neck, then returned to the house.  
  
This time he went into the room on the left, most likely the bedroom. As he crossed the threshold into the room, he froze in shock, as he found his assumption to be wrong.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The room was small, about the same size as the kitchen, but furnished differently. A doorway to his left led to what must be a bathing room; the floor was of gray slate, with a steel washtub at the far end. There were a few piles of soft white linen blankets and a basket of what must be bars of soap. A bucket for filling the washtub was set off to the side, by the chamber pot.  
  
A dark wooden bureau sat against the wall to his right. In the far corner, was a bed with a large chest at its bottom. Thick wool curtains covered the window across the room from him.  
  
Huddled on the bed, with her blankets wrapped around her, was a young woman, barely twenty by the look of her. Her face was a mess of bruises, and Saeros had no doubt that the rest of her body would be the same. She looked up at him in fear, and he felt his heart stirred by a curious emotion he had never felt before. How very much like a yearling doe she looks, with her pale complexion, soft tan hair, and deep brown eyes, he thought gently.  
  
Hardening his heart to the pity he felt for her, he stepped forward and harshly said, "Who are you?"  
  
She shrank back at the words, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist.  
  
"Are you deaf?" he raised his voice as he advanced.  
  
She let out a frightened whimper and tried to move away from him, but the wall at her back prevented it. He stood at the edge of the bed, his lean, muscular frame towering above her. His long, raven-dark hair fell loosely down his back. Dark gray eyes, the color of a storm at sea, glared at her coldly from his devilishly handsome face. His ears were delicately pointed.  
  
"An elf!" she breathed softly. There was no doubt in her mind as to what he was. Never in her life did she think that she would see an elf. "I am Aerin, of the house of Hurin," she nervously responded upon remembering his question.  
  
"Aerin, of the house of Hurin?!" he repeated eagerly, "Would you happen to know of a man named Turin?"  
  
"Why, my lord? What do seek him for?" she asked politely.  
  
His eyes narrowed in anger. No one dared to question him! But he withheld his temper, for he was cunning enough to realize that anger wouldn't coax the information he needed from this woman. "I need to speak with him of a matter of great importance. A private matter," he added quickly, hoping to satisfy her curiosity. "Now, do you know of him?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. He is my nephew," she responded.  
  
"His aunt! This is fortunate indeed!" he exclaimed as a cruel smile graced his lips. Already a plan for revenge was forming in his head.  
  
Aerin's voice broke in upon his thoughts, "What would your name be, my lord?"  
  
"My name would be Saeros, son of Ithilbor. But what more do you know of Turin? Could you tell me where you last saw him, or where he might be, so that I could find him?"  
  
Aerin recounted the night's events, answering Saeros' questions and explaining the state of the hall and those dead within. His eyes lit up with delight and excitement as he listened to her. But Aerin was frightened and bewildered by him, his sudden, unexplained appearance and his quick, tense manner, as well as his curious interest in Turin. Turin had spoken to her of being among the elves, but never mentioned one by the name of Saeros.  
  
As she finished, he asked, "Are you well enough to travel by horseback? It is an urgent errand that I must complete, for Turin must be found soon, and you would be invaluable. I will need to use your horses though."  
  
She nodded, "Use my horses if you need them, my lord, but be sure to treat them well. I've had them since they were mere foals, seven years ago. I was only thirteen myself. As they grew stronger, I trained them and they became my most trusted companions. I should be able to ride, but it's been so long and my ribs cause me pain with every breath I take. My husband Brodda forbid riding, and hunting. I loved to hunt."  
  
Saeros smiled, "Come, let me see your wounds." He knelt by the edge of the bed.  
  
Aerin immediately tensed at the thought of her body being touched again. She needed an excuse to be alone for a moment to pull herself together. "Ummm..could I perhaps change, my lord?" she gestured to her night dress.  
  
"Of course. And pack all that you wish to take with you, for we shall not be returning," he said as he stood and moved to open the chest at the foot of the bed. He pulled out a pack and began to arrange shirts, leggings, boots, gloves, belts, cloaks, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a sword, daggers, and scabbards inside of it. Aerin slipped out from under her covers and gathered her things from her bureau. Into her pack she put the clothing she owned and her old hunting weapons, a bow and quiver of arrows, and a long silver knife.  
  
Shouldering her pack, she went into the bathing room, locking the door behind her. She didn't trust men, unless they were close relatives. Dropping her pack to the floor and opening it, she put in some bars of soap, personal hygiene items such as she had, and her satchel of healing supplies. Aerin took off her night dress and put it into the pack as well. Leaving her undergarments on, she pulled on dark gray leggings and a matching shirt. After donning her soft, black leather boots and matching belt, she wrapped a silvery green cloak around her shoulders and fastened the silver clasp at her throat. She strapped her bow and quiver to her back, and slipped her knife into it's sheath at her belt. Lifting her pack once more, she opened the door and returned to her bedroom.  
  
Saeros sat on the bed with his pack next to him. I don't trust him, she thought. He was so angry ay first, yet then he found that it may be worth his while to befriend me, and he has taken to treating me kindly, though I sense that he is not sincere in his actions.  
  
She set her pack next to his and sat beside him on the bed. With the grace and smoothness of water poured from a pitcher, he slid off the edge of the bed to kneel before her, placing his hands on her waist. Involuntarily, she tensed.  
  
"I am merely going to assess how injured you are, nothing more," he explained irritably.  
  
Aerin closed her eyes and willed her body to relax, but try as she might, she could not loosen her taunt muscles. Saeros slid his hands under her shirt to gently feel her swollen and bruised ribcage. As he determined the severity of it, he asked, "Who did this to you?"  
  
Aerin gulped and whispered, "Brodda."  
  
"Brodda, your own husband, did this to you?" Saeros repeated incredulously. He could not believe how cruel Man could be towards his own kind. "How long have you been hurt?" he asked gently, his heart showing in his eyes.  
  
"Three years," her voice was so soft, he could barely hear her. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. Tears flowed silently down her face. But whether her pain was caused by his touch or the memory of her mistreatment, he didn't know.  
  
Saeros raised his hand and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. She was breaking him, breaking through the hard, cold fortress he had lived in for his entire life; behind the barrier of hatred imprisoning his heart that had always protected him. His whole life, he had been able to play the apathetic one, the one who did not care no matter what happened. His father had raised him that way, and his mind still believed that it was the best roll to play in life. But now, his heart was letting him know it was there; light was shining through to its cell now, waking it up. He was beginning to feel emotions, something he had never felt before. He was feeling compassion for her, and sadness for the pain she suffered.  
  
No!!! His mind screamed. You cannot feel anything for her! She is only part of your plan for revenge against Turin!  
  
But he couldn't help himself. "What reason had he for doing such a thing?" Saeros said softly.  
  
"I do not know, my lord, but every night he beat and raped me, ever since he took me as his wife. And when his friends are present, they take part in his favorite evening pastime," her tears flowed again, and she fell silent.  
  
Saeros stood, "Come," he coaxed her as one would coax a newborn fawn out from behind its mother. "Though your ribs need binding, I cannot take the time to do so now, for we cannot linger. It would not be good for Brodda's companions to return while we still remain."  
  
Aerin nodded and stood. Both lifted their packs and walked outside. Saeros handed her his pack and left her to wait while he retrieved the horses. The black gelding, who would serve as the pack horse, was tethered to the buckskin mare's saddle by the lead rope of his halter. Saeros took both packs and added them to the gelding's consignment. As he adjusted the buckles and straps of the horses' tack, he asked Aerin, "What would be the names of your horses?"  
  
Aerin, who was stroking the neck of the mare, answered, "The gelding is Dusk, and the mare is Dawn."  
  
"Very fitting names," Saeros commented, "Now are you ready to go?" There was impatience in his voice again.  
  
"Just one moment, my lord, I have something I need to tend to," Aerin explained as she returned to her house.  
  
She walked to the fireplace at the end of the hall. The fire had burned low, and was no more than a mound of smoldering ashes. Selecting a log from the stack beside the hearth, she stirred the ashes to life, until the remaining sparks ignited the log. Taking it from the fireplace, she carried it outside. The horse snorted and shied from the glare thrown by the small flame and the smell of the smoke in their nostrils. Saeros whispered in their ears and stroked their noses, calming them. He forced himself to take no interest in what she was doing. But he couldn't help watching as she stood by the house and raised the flame up to the eaves to ignite the straw thatching. The flames spread quickly, aided by the blowing wind. Aerin tossed the log in through the door, then stepped back to watch as her house became engulfed in flames.  
  
In her heart she wept, but she knew the destruction of her home was necessary. She was beginning her life anew, for she realized that she would not be returning. It was time to leave her past behind. Her past was symbolized by this house, the house she'd been born in and had inherited when her father died of old age when she was fifteen. His passing had been hard on her, for he alone had been the one to raise her. She had never known her mother, who had died giving birth to her. Then Brodda came, and forced her to marry him, and took her possessions as his own. But that was all past, as would be the house.  
  
Aerin had other reasons to burn her house as well. She didn't want anyone else to live within it, especially Brodda's companions who would surely return. She wanted them to think that she was dead or gone. With her house in flames, they surely would.  
  
After the roof of the house and the adjoined barn collapsed, Aerin returned to Saeros and the horses. Saeros was impatient to be off. "Do you require aid in mounting?" he snapped.  
  
"Yes, my lord," Aerin responded meekly. She stepped to Dawn's side and placed her hands on the pommel and cantle of the saddle and settled her foot in the stirrup. Saeros then pushed her up into the saddle. Wincing, she wrapped her arms around her jarred ribs.  
  
Saeros took the mare's reins in hand and asked Aerin, "Which way did Turin and his pursuers go?" She pointed to the left, where the path moved away from the house and disappeared among the pines. "Did they travel upon the path itself or did they go through the forest, merely traveling in the same direction as the path?" Saeros questioned again, for he found it unlikely that Turin would take the path; he would be more likely to lead them into the depths of the forest where he could lose them. Aerin knew that Turin had done so. And knowing that the elf would easily find his trail, she answered, "On the path itself." She didn't know where the path to the left led, but no one used it. The path to the right saw much use, for it led to the main gathering of dwellings built by the Edain but now occupied by the Easterlings.  
  
Saeros gave her a look which plainly said I don't believe you. Nonetheless, he gave a light tug on the reins and started down the path, Dawn and Dusk following obediently behind.  
  
It was the hour before dawn, and the sky was a dark indigo that would slowly pale. The stars faded as the eastern sky turned amethyst, and tall pines made the ground darker that it should have been. But it did not daunt Saeros' keen elvensight, for he saw that there were no tracks on this path beside those few made by the beasts that dwelt in the forest.  
  
He stopped and stood still, staring at the undisturbed earth at his feet. Cautiously, Aerin asked, "My lord? Is something wrong?"  
  
With the quickness of a cat, he whirled around and grabbed Aerin by the collar of her shirt and pulled her down from the horse, slamming her body against a tree. The horses snorted and shied, but neither noticed. Aerin gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against the pain as tears spilled silently down her cheeks.  
  
Saeros, ignoring her discomfort, snapped, "Why do you lie?"  
  
Aerin did not speak, so Saeros pressed her against the tree again, so that she whimpered in pain and fear. When she answered, her breathing was ragged and shallow, "Forgive me, my lord, but I am merely cautious, for I do not know who you are or what you want with Turin. I cannot bring myself to trust you." Anger flashed in his eyes. He raised his hand to strike her, and she whispered, "Strike me if you will, my lord, for I do not deserve your mercy."  
  
He froze. Inside, his heart and mind were battling with one another, and so far his mind had won.  
  
What are you doing! His heart cried. She has been as polite and gentle as anything, if a little mistrustful for the way she was treated, but you can't hold that against her just because you hate her nephew!  
  
Strike her! His mind urged. Strike her for her disobedience and disrespect! She matters not to you; she's just a pawn in your plot for revenge!  
  
But she does matter, his heart whispered from behind its walls of imprisonment. Saeros lowered his hand, his heart had won.  
  
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I'm worried that this chapter may have been a bit confusing, especially Saeros actions.  
  
Saeros locks his emotions away in his heart, refusing to acknowledge them, in his mind considering them a weakness. His actions are varied because he cannot decide how to react to Aerin's presence. His mind, vain and vengeful, is warring with his heart, gentle and compassionate. This is what causes his indecision, for until now, he has let his mind control his actions.  
  
We don't know anything about Saeros' past, but perhaps that will explain his actions? 


End file.
